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Updated: May 11, 2025
I have known Rodion for a year and a half; he is morose, gloomy, proud and haughty, and of late and perhaps for a long time before he has been suspicious and fanciful. He has a noble nature and a kind heart. He does not like showing his feelings and would rather do a cruel thing than open his heart freely.
I owe you an explanation," he went on, smiling and gently slapping the young man on the knee; but almost at the self-same moment his face assumed a serious and even sad expression, to Raskolnikoff's great astonishment, to whom the magistrate appeared in quite a different light. "At our last interview, an unusual scene took place between us, Rodion.
Ah, Rodion Romanovitch," he added suddenly, "what all men need is fresh air, fresh air... more than anything!" He moved to one side to make way for the priest and server, who were coming up the stairs. They had come for the requiem service. By Svidrigailov's orders it was sung twice a day punctually. Svidrigailov went his way.
All the muscles of his face were slightly convulsed. "Why, I see your lips tremble just as they did the other day," observed Porphyrius Petrovitch, with an air of interest. "You have not, I think, thoroughly realized the object of my visit, Rodion Romanovitch," he pursued, after a moment's silence, "hence your great astonishment.
I have the honour to inform you, in anticipation, that if, in spite of my request, I meet Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be compelled to withdraw immediately and then you have only yourself to blame. I write on the assumption that Rodion Romanovitch who appeared so ill at my visit, suddenly recovered two hours later and so, being able to leave the house, may visit you also.
"What blood?" "The old woman's and her sister's. There was quite a pool." "Who are you?" cried the workman uneasily. "I am Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikoff, ex-student. I live at the house Schilla, in a lane not far from here, No. 14. Ask the porter there he knows me," Raskolnikoff replied indifferently, without turning to his questioner. "What were you doing in those rooms?" "Looking at them."
He did not know himself; like a man catching at a straw, he suddenly felt that he, too, 'could live, that there was still life for him, that his life had not died with the old woman. Perhaps he was in too great a hurry with his conclusions, but he did not think of that. "But I did ask her to remember 'Thy servant Rodion' in her prayers," the idea struck him.
"Yes, Rodion Romanovitch, I am absolutely right. I hold a proof! And this proof I came in possession of the other day: God has sent it me!" "What is it?" "I shall not tell you, Rodion Romanovitch. But I have no right to procrastinate. I am going to have you arrested!
"What blood?" "The old woman's and her sister's. There was quite a pool." "Who are you?" cried the workman uneasily. "I am Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikoff, ex-student. I live at the house Schilla, in a lane not far from here, No. 14. Ask the porter there he knows me," Raskolnikoff replied indifferently, without turning to his questioner. "What were you doing in those rooms?" "Looking at them."
"And so, Rodion Romanovitch, can you wonder that I played such pranks on you? And what made you come at that very minute? Someone seemed to have sent you, by Jove! And if Nikolay had not parted us... and do you remember Nikolay at the time? Do you remember him clearly? It was a thunderbolt, a regular thunderbolt! And how I met him! I didn't believe in the thunderbolt, not for a minute.
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